


Mudblood (the girl who survived)

by AbnegationDauntless



Category: Dramione - Fandom, Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M, Love, Sexual, care, dramione - Freeform, explicit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 05:18:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12162312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbnegationDauntless/pseuds/AbnegationDauntless
Summary: What if Draco Malfoy was able to get to Hermione and they go into hiding together after the Malfoy Manor scene? What if they slowly gravitate towards each other and they don't know why?EXPLICIT  CONTENT, mature scenes, and language.





	1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE: ESCAPEES 

 

Hermione  
"Open the gate! It's them!" Bellatrix cackles In glee.  
      We're herded into Malfoy Manor, where Voldemort sleeps and breathes. I'm so scared I cannot think straight. Not just out of fear but adrenaline as well. I'm going to the Malfoy Manor and I'm going to die with Gryffindor courage. I hold my head up and make my way towards the entrance with my dignity in tact.  
      Bellatrix flicks her hooded, crazy eyes down to what my capturer is holding. The sword of Gryffindor. Her eyed widen in shock, fear, and rage. All in a flurry of madness. She says nothing until we are safely placed in the hands of more DeathEaters. Then she attacks.  
"Where did you get that?" She asked crazily. "Where?"  
"This one right here was holdin' it. I guess it's mine now." One of the DeathEaters explains, pointing to me.  
She looks at me with rage and disgust. "Take the two boys to the dungeons. I'm going to have a talk with this one. Girl to girl," Bellatrix snarls.  
      My heart drops. I can only hear the  muffled screams of Ron and Harry in protest to the situation. I look at Bellatrix in pure fear this time. I see Draco standing not too far from us. He watches us with fear, sadness, fury, and...pleading. Bellatrix grips my arm tightly and slams me into the wall, knocking the breath out of me. I whine as my head snaps back to hit the granite.  
"How did you get into my vault at Gringotts?" Bellatrix seethes.  
"I-I don't know what you're talking a-about," I stutter, words full of fear.  
"I don't believe you," Bellateix cackles happily and crazily as she hears my loud, high-pitched screams come from my mouth.  
"I don't know what you're talking about!" I scream.  
      Draco Intervenes, knocking the wand out of Bellatrix's hand and she grabs mine, apparating us somewhere different. Woods. I'm in the woods alone with Draco Malfoy. I pant and shiver as blood runs out of gashes on my arm from the cursed word Bellateox carved into my arm. Mudblood. I'm really am just a filthy Mudblood. I think to myself. Everything happened so fast thay it's hard to think straight. Malfoy crouches down beside my head hesitantly.  
"...Are you okay Granger?" He asks after some time.  
I shiver in a cold sweat. I shake my head 'no' and whimper at the bleeding gashes in my arm. Harry and Ron. Harry and Ron are still at the Malfoy Manor. Alone. "Please help me," I beg, my courage flooding through the drain in a heartbeat. "Please." Was all I remember before loosing to consciousness.  
Three hours later  
I shake awake after a fairly horrid nightmare. I lift my pounding head up from the grass. Wait. Grass? I remember falling asleep on muddy leaves. I look up at the bright sky that's layered in a thick blanket of Grey storm clouds. I swallow back the taste of bile and a dry throat. How long was I out for? I feel a certain warmth next to me, popping and sizzling. I turn my head to see a graciously going fire keeping me warm.  
I sit up fully, looking around to find that Draco is sitting on the opposite side of the fire with his wand drawn, but laying on the ground. I look down at my left arm, it's not fully healed, still a huge scar that I can read. But it no longer looks new. I feel sore all over my body, a throbbing ache.  
"I tried to heal your arm wholly but it was a cursed blade," Draco whispers to me.  
I shake my head and sigh. "Might as well own who I am," I whisper to myself.  
If Draco heard me he said nothing. "I also  tried to ease your headache. But that won't fully go away from another day or two."  
"Thank you," I swallow. "F-for everything?" It came out as a question.  
"I'm not going to hurt you so quit stuttering," Draco snaps.  
"It's not you," I snap back. "It's the fact that we're alone and we don't have a plan!"  
"Well I'm sorry. Would you like a brochure? It's destination nowhere!" He seethes back.  
I'm taken aback slightly but hold my ground. "I liked it better when you quit being insulting," I mutter, turning my head away from the fire to hide my frustrated tears from unwanted eyes.  
"I liked it better when you bit your tongue," he bit back.  
The stars above aren't easily seen. That makes me sad because I'm left in the darkness. I know that Draco's there but he doesn't need to know everything about me. Saved my life or not. I still dislike him. I shiver as the hours go by and the fire slowly dies. I wrap my arms around myself and hold tightly. I herd the heat that hasn't been lost to the wind wrapped with me. I sniffle. Ron and Harry will hate me for this.  
"Granger?" Draco almost silently asks.  
"Yes?" I whisper back.  
"I'm fucking cold. Come over here," Draco responds.  
I tense slightly. Is he being serious? I don't know but this sounds kind of fishy.  
"Now Granger," he slurrily says.  
I crawl around the fire to sit right in front of Draco, hovering over his body slightly. He finally gets annoyed enough to wrap his strong arms. Holy shit around me and pulls me down on top of him. He curls me into his chest and sighs as we share out bodily heat. I do admit, it does feel nice to be cuddled. Especially by a good cuddler. Did I just say that? No...  
By that time, I've finally falling asleep.  
6:00 am  
Draco shakes me awake, already stomping out the last of the fire. I look at Draco's diheaveled hair, clothes, and albino skin that just seems to become more sickly pale.  
"We need to get moving. We're on the run and they'll be tracking me. Especially my aunt." Draco explains the obvious. "The earlier the better,"  
I nod my head. I grip my black beaded bag that held everything that we need. I bite my lip as I see a pair of Harry's clothing.  
"I have an extra set of clothes if you want them," I say, holding out the pair of washed out jeans, a dark shirt, and a pair of worn down converse. He won't go for these. I just know it.  
Draco hurriedly takes the clothes I offer and walks farther away from me to change. I pull out some of my clothing as well. A pair of black boot cut jeans, a grey and blue plaid button down shirt, and a pair of black converse. I pull my hair into a ponytail and wait for Draco as well. When Draco gets back, you wouldn't have recognized. He looks like a muggle school player. And he looks damn fine. I hand him on of Ronald's old combs to Draco and let him tame his hair. Draco would kill me if he knew he was wearing Harry's clothing and Ronald's comb. I stifle a giggle and watch him comb his short hair so it's not sticking up. I walk with Draco, staying silent for a little while.  
"Let's steal a tent." I say bluntly.  
Draco stops in his tracks and looks at me. "You want to steal something?" He asks.  
"Yes. I want to steal a tent and some food that'll last us a few days," I reply.  
"Where?" He asks apprehensively.  
"At a muggle store. They won't be able to catch us in time before we're able to get away. They're slow," I say with a raised eyebrow.  
Draco thinks for a moment. "Fine. We'll get the tent first,"  
And that's when Draco and I hatch a plan. A good one at that.


	2. Chapter Two: Stealing

Draco  
"Are you sure this plan is going to work?" I ask with a roll of my silver eyes.   
"Yes. It has to work otherwise we'll starve or freeze to death," Hermione replies matter of factly. "We'll steal everything from Ireland that way we lead them way off track."   
I do have to admit, she is the brightest witch of our age. I think to myself as I follow her through the marshy area.   
"And when do we plan on doing this miss secretive?" I say.   
"Now," she replies before gripping my hand, sending sparks through my hand. I feel the tug of apparition.   
We land in an Irish store, filled with a building bakery, shoe department and a camping department. We slowly and steadily move through the store, picking out long sleeping bags, a huge tent that we could easily modify to fit our needs, and some hunting gear. Such as boots, jeans, shirts, underwear, hunting coats and cargo pants.  
"You want me to wear these?" I ask incredulously.   
"Yes. They're  quite warm. And it's winter." She snaps.   
"Feisty much?" I ask.  
She tilts her lips up into a sneer. "Leave me alone Malfoy. Do we have everything?" She asks, looking over our camping gear.   
"Blankets?" I raise an eyebrow.   
"That's what the sleeping bags are for. Have you not seen a sleeping bag before?" Hermione asks me.   
"No. I don't believe in muggle contraptions," I lie. I cannot let her think I'm too soft of her parents kind. Muggles.   
Hermione rolls her eyes. "You're a prat Malfoy," she huffs before grabbing my arm and the cart and apparating us away.   
A forest in Whales Britain  
      We land on the forest floor with a crunching sound. I look around at the beautiful trees and the dead grass beneath my shoes. It's already starting to snow. I look down at the cart and start pulling out my clothing and boots. I slip on the thick padded cargo pants, a white sweater, and a thick padded coat over top. I lace up the black combat boots. I think that's what they're called. I look at Hermione, who seems to be oblivious to the fact that I just stripped in front of her.   
She grabs a pair of cargo pants, thickly woolen blue sweater, and a thickly padded cargo jacket. she strips to her underwear and I swallow. she's beautiful....shut up Malfoy. I think to myself. You can't think like that. You'll get yourself killed. She's a mudblood. Father wouldn't approve. I think to myself. She's shimmying into a pair of black skinny jeans and a black turtle neck, almost too small for her. She looks amazing in black. I said shut up. You're a Malfoy. She laces up her black combat boots as well, putting her hair up into a bun before slipping on a navy blue beanie. She looks over the cart and pulls out a tent.   
"We can set this up here for now. But tomorrow we'll have to keep moving." Hermione mutters to me.   
"I think I'd know that miss-know-it-all." I smirk at her flushed face. I don't want to make her think that I like her. I want her to continue to hate me. It'd make things easier if I just kept my distance.   
"We still need food. I'll go alone." Hermione snaps at me. "Since you're  in SUCH a good mood."   
"Do you really think it'd be a great idea for us to separate?" I ask her with a raised eyebrow. "Just because you want to be childish, doesn't mean I'm going to let us get killed or separated."   
"You're right." Hermione admits reluctantly after a few moments of awkward silence. "I'm sorry." She also adds on.   
"Ooh, Granger apologizes! I like this side of you." I admit honestly yet snidely.   
"Don't get used to it." Hermione snaps back.   
"Don't plan on me being nice to you again." I retort.   
"If you want this to work, we might as well make a bloody truce." Hermione says after walking some distance ahead of me to find a good spot to place the tent.   
"A truce?" I snort.  
"Doesn't mean we have to be buddy buddy. It just means we'll be alliances, cordial towards one another." Hermione responds, taking out the tent and building it with magic.   
"Okay." I reply, looking at her nice, cute butt. Stop it Malfoy. She's still a mudblood. But who are you to refuse this? Admit it, you've liked her since third year. Now here she is. Alone. And you have to admit, she's being friendlier towards you. That's got to mean something. And your farther's opinion doesn't matter anymore. He's disowned you. I think to myself.   
Hermione waves a hand in front of my face. "Hello..?"   
"Yes?" I ask, trying desperately not to get overwhelmed with her scent.   
"I said that as long as you agree to the truce, then I agree." Hermione repeats herself.   
"I, Draco Malfoy, agree to be cordial and an alliance to Hermione..."   
"Jean." She responds at my questioning look.   
"...Hermione Jean Granger." I finish.   
"I, Hermione Jean Granger, agree to be cordial and become alliances with Draco..." she trails off.   
"Lucius." I reply.   
"...Draco Lucius Malfoy." She finishes her sentence to.   
               Hermione holds out her hand for me to shake. At first I was hesitant. I've never done this with her. The last time we touched hands, it was surprising. But this time she's giving me a chance. I hold up my hand and shakes hers for longer than necessary. Her hand was warm and I could feel her pulse beating in her palm. The sparks flew yet again, but I chose to ignore it unless she brings it up. We let our hands drop.   
"The tent isn't as roomy as a wizarding tent. So we'll be cramped together. Which will be nice since we'll have each other's body heat." Hermione explains.   
"I'm okay with that." I try to hold back my excitement. This might not be as bad as I thought it'd be.  I smile slightly.   
"What?" She questions.   
I drop my smile instantly. "Nothing." I reply, grabbing my sleeping bag and slipping into the tent.   
             Holy shit, it really is cramped in here. I roll out my sleeping bag. I take off my coat, shirt, pants, and shoes, leaving me in only my boxers. Hermione follows after me a few seconds later with her sleeping bag. I hold her wrist, stopping her from rolling hers out.   
"Do you..want to sleep in the same sleeping bag? It might help with the cold." I whisper almost inaudibly.   
"Okay." Hermione responds.   
She also slips off her coat, pants, and shoes as she looks at me with soft eyes. "Is it okay that I sleep like this?" She asks me.   
"It's fine. I'm only in boxers so.." I trail off.   
"Oh." She replies. "Okay."   
              She slips inside my sleeping bag, curling in my chest, resting her face in my neck. She wraps her arm around my waist and wiggles around until I get comfortable. I lean my head back and stare at the ceiling of the tent for a while. Her body pressed against mine felt right, almost too right. This isn't how things were supposed to work out. We were supposed to hate each other for the rest of our lives. But here I am, making a truce with her, offering her my body heat and sleeping bag, and letting her feel my almost naked body next to hers. And the things is: I think I love her.


End file.
